


Stolen (Rescued)

by InkRanOut



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Caretaking, Fear, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, If I start whumping everyone from a certain point on don't be surprised, Non-Sexual Slavery, Oh also, Slave!Callum, Slave!Ezran, Trust Issues, Whump, at first, basically Rayla rescues Callum and now she's gotta deal with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkRanOut/pseuds/InkRanOut
Summary: Somewhere in the middle of a deserted road, an elf comes across a man who is beating up a young slave. She knows that it'll be trouble, and she knows it almost as well as she knows that she can't leave it alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Renkocchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renkocchi/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mysterious traveller comes across a man and his slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!! Thanks for clicking on my work! :D  
> This fic is dedicated to the super duper amazing @Renkocchi! Bless her <3
> 
> So let me tell you some things about this work's universe real quick: it's still the canon universe (I'm trying) except this takes place many many many years before the events of the main series. But somehow Callum and Rayla (and Ezran, Runaan, and probably a lot more people as the plot progresses) are still there. So I guess this AU is about them having been born on a different time.
> 
> Please enjoy~

Callum was a slave, an obedient one. Though he tended to be careless at times, and his carelessness had gotten him in trouble one too many times.

This time, however, it had nothing to do with carelessness or ignorance. Wagons and carriages just made him sick; it had always been that way, and it was still like this even now that he was older.

But he’d never had to be on one for so long; not while being conscious, anyway. He could feel his stomach churning, protesting, clenching and unclenching painfully, and all he could do was wrap his arms around his belly and hope nothing bad happened.

Unfortunately, hope alone didn’t turn out to be enough. A few minutes after the wagon took a turn to an especially bumpy path, he leaned on his palms and emptied his stomach of the little food and water in it. He didn’t even have the time to reach the opening of the covered wagon.

Once he realized what he had done, he felt panic take over his senses. The wagon stopped in the middle of the deserted path and all he could do was stare down at his own vomit, sweat sliding next to his brow as he heard the man get off the coachman’s seat and approach him.

“What did you do, you little shit?” the man growled angrily, grabbing Callum by the hair without a moment’s hesitation.

The boy failed to hold back a quiet yelp as the man pulled him and forced him to exit the wagon, roughly throwing him to the ground.

“My orders are to have taken you to the auction house by nightfall, you think I have time to clean up after you like I’m some maid?!” he shouted, giving his hair another yank, this time forcing his face in the mud. “Answer when you’re asked a question, brat!”

“No, sir,” Callum whispered weakly, his voice shaky and uncertain. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I don’t need your apology! What I need is for this mess,” he pointed at the wagon with his finger, “to be cleaned up, right this fucking instant!”

“Yes, sir,” Callum said, somewhat raising his voice along with his gaze. He felt relieved and grateful that it was over so quickly, with so little pain.

It seemed that he was going to be forgiven if he just corrected his mistake, and he was thankful for it. Perhaps the man was actually going to go easy on him, since he was to be sold soon and all…

A sudden kick to the stomach knocked all air out of Callum’s lungs, and he wheezed and wrapped his hands around himself, in an attempt to shield his body from another blow he knew was coming.

The next kick found him on the shoulder, and he curled up further into a ball. Tears escaped through his eyes despite them being squeezed shut to the point they hurt.

Apparently, he had been wrong. It wasn’t over. Far from it; the man had only just begun, Callum knew him well enough to be able to tell. This was all supposed to be about being late to the auction, but when it came to punishments, this man had all the time in the world. Just as he received another blow, Callum realized just how silly his earlier assumption had been.

He saw the man prepare to kick him again and closed his eyes, instinctively raising his arms to protect his face. The blow never came.

“What is going on here?” Callum heard somebody say instead.

The boy hesitantly opened his eyes to search for the owner of the unfamiliar voice, curious to know who the person delaying his punishment was, and what their reason for doing so could possibly be.

People rarely ever paid attention to masters punishing their slaves, even when it was done in public. And when they did, it was almost always just to ask them to go do it somewhere else, or at least make their property scream _quieter_.

But Callum doubted that a man beating his slave bloody on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere was something that could possibly bother anyone - not somebody of importance, anyway. And the road was supposed to be _deserted_ in the first place.

“What do you care?” the man said.

For a moment Callum thought he was going to spit. On him, on the ground. On the traveler. Anywhere, really. He didn’t. That meant he was feeling at least a little threatened by the stranger’s presence.

Now curious as to what this oh so intimidating person looked like, Callum raised his eyes slightly.

The figure wore a black hooded cloak that was quite short, only covering their head and shoulders. They appeared to be taller than himself, and he thought he could spot some white hair somewhere under the cloak.

Callum was a little surprised when his eyes caught the glint of two weapons hanging from the traveler’s belt. And the fabric of the hood that covered the top of their head had an odd shape, almost as if…

_Horns?_

The stranger met Callum’s eyes, probably having noticed his staring. Caught off-guard, he immediately turned his gaze back to the ground, where it belonged.

“This is elf territory,” the stranger continued in a harsh tone, their words confirming Callum’s theory. “What business do you have here?”

“Hah.” The man scoffed, but still answered the question. “I’m takin’ this slave to an auction house. It’s on the other side of your territory so I’m just passin’ through – I have a permit if you need to see it…”

He searched his pocket and then handed a piece of paper to the elf. “Honestly, if it was up to me, I wouldn’t spend another damn second on freakin’ _elf_ grounds,” he added. He emphasized the word ‘elf’, like it was an insult on its own.

The traveler –who Callum was beginning to think was probably not a traveler, but a scout- took the paper and examined it carefully. Callum leaned a little forward and noticed that they were frowning under the hood’s shadow.

“I can’t read this,” they said as they returned it to the man. “It’s human writing.”

“Well, of course it is,” the man protested, folding the paper and putting it back inside his pocket. “Not my problem if you can’t read it, _elf_.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you pass,” the stranger said after a pause. “In fact, I am trying hard to think of a reason not to kill you right here and now, _trespasser_.”

They moved before the man could even see it happening, and in an instant he found himself threatened by two firm blades on his throat.

“Wha-“ The man took a step back, exclaiming in shock. “Are you crazy?!”

“Am I?” the elf smirked, their weapons sparkling under the sun. “Hey, shall we find out?”

“P- Please,“ the man stuttered, his whole body sweating. “I’m a mere trader, unarmed! I didn’t harm any of you elves, and human travelers like me pass from here all the time! Our people have peace, you can’t do this, it’s- it’s murder!” he shouted.

“Not if nobody finds out, it’s not,” the elf muttered, grinning. “Well then…”

“What do you want from me?!” the man asked, seemingly scared out of his mind. “What is it? I’ll give it to you, just spare my life!”

Callum had watched the scene unfold without moving an inch from where he was, on the ground and covered in dirt.

He blinked several times, trying to comprehend what was going on, why the man was the one begging around the same time that Callum would have probably been, had his punishment been carried out normally.

But things were changing, perhaps a bit too fast for him to properly process anything at all.

Suddenly, the stranger’s eyes were on him again, and he almost flinched from his surprise.

“Him,” they said then, voice quiet but certain, like an order. Their expression had changed, turned calm and neutral.

“I believe I could do with a human slave,” they continued, just as Callum was wondering whether he’d heard right. “I want him.”

The man hurried next to Callum and grabbed the boy roughly by the shirt, offering him to the elf. “Take him! He’s all yours!” he shouted. “Please… I have a wife and kids! Please let me go!”

He sounded on the verge of tears.

Callum was starting to panic, but with the elf’s eyes still fixed on him, he didn’t dare struggle in the man’s grip. He remained still, doing his best to conceal even the sound of his breathing. He was too scared to look up.

The stranger smiled slightly, apparently satisfied. “You can go,” they said, and the man threw Callum to the ground and ran for his life.

In no more than a couple seconds, he was already on the wagon and leaving the same way he came, looking back once as if he’d expected for the elf to chase after him. The stories about elves that humans told each other and apparently truly believed in were _crazy_ , the stranger thought as they watched him go.

Once the wagon had disappeared from their sight, the elf turned to the human on the ground, who had yet to move from where he had been thrown. He remained perfectly still, like a rag doll, and even his breathing was completely hushed and silent. A few seconds later, he slowly sat up and knelt in front of the elf, making sure to keep his head lowered.

“Oi, human,” the elf muttered after inspecting his new position for a few moments. “Get up.”

Callum shivered. His heart was racing, and he felt like it was going to jump out of his chest at any given moment.

His life had already been bad enough as it was. He’d had to work until he could barely stand, and his body had become thin and kept growing weaker and weaker with the passing of time. He’d been beaten almost every day for minor mistakes, some of which weren’t even his own. And, finally, he’d been sent to the auction house and forced to leave his brother behind.

The last one had been the most painful, by far.

But even if he had this huge collection of unpleasant memories (some of which were each accompanied by scars to tell the tale), being owned by an elf, the enemy ( _former_ enemy, according to some piece of paper, but clearly not in humans’ or elves’ minds) had to be the most horrifying thing to happen to him during the almost fifteen years he had been alive. And if even a _single_ word he had heard about elves was true, then he was in serious trouble.

Not to mention, the elf that he now belonged to was clearly a hostile one. They obviously despised humans, and they seemed violent, too. As a slave, fear had always dwelled inside Callum’s head and his heart, but he rarely ever felt _this_ scared and helpless.

At least with humans, he knew what to expect. Which, frankly, wasn’t anything good, but at the very least they were humans just like him, not… monsters. _Elves_.

Having put the blades back on their belt, the stranger placed a hand on their hood and pulled it off their head. Callum could finally see the elf’s face clearly.

He was more than a little surprised to find that she was a young girl, probably about his age, and with a face a lot less scary than he’d expected. It was actually pleasant, and there was no scowl, just two slightly furrowed brows.

She had light skin, and indeed there were two actual elf horns poking out of her skull – Callum had never seen real ones before. All of her hair was pure white, not quite reaching past her shoulders. She wore dark clothing, the sort that would allow her to move and run around with ease.

More importantly, not only was the scary expression he remembered from before gone; it had been replaced by something that looked a lot like genuine _concern_.

Once he realized that he was staring, Callum lowered his eyes immediately, fixing them on a random stone next to the elf’s boot like it was the most interesting thing he had seen in his life.

Soon after, he realized that he had failed to carry out his very first order from his new mistress – even worse; he’d completely _ignored_ it. Even though she’d so clearly commanded him to stand.

The realization was like a punch to the gut; it certainly did make all the air disappear from his lungs like one.

Mad at himself for doing something so idiotic, Callum thought he probably didn’t deserve the right to stand up anymore. So he stayed where he was, kneeling.

It’d be great if he didn’t have to _crawl_ the rest of the way, his knees still hurt from his having been thrown on the ground earlier –although they hurt most of the time anyway, because of all the kneeling- but it wouldn’t be the most painfully thing he’s had to endure. Or the most humiliating.

The elf looked at him for what felt like a really long time, and Callum was growing increasingly nervous with every passing second. He barely managed to keep himself from fidgeting, because he feared what might happen if he were to show just how uneasy he felt.

Finally, the elf spoke, though her question wasn’t one that Callum had expected. “So… Do you have a name?”

Her voice was calm and quiet. Callum looked up at her for just a moment, and she still didn’t look angry, or like she was running out of patience.

“It’s Callum,” he ventured. Then, nervously, he added: “If it pleases you.”

The practiced words still felt strange in his mouth even after all these years, but he figured he’d have to use what he had been taught as a slave, now more than ever.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “…oookay,” she muttered. “I mean, I don’t really care, so. Ahem. Can you stand?”

She offered Callum her hand, palm up, but all he did was flinch.

“Huh? Are you afraid of me?” she said, frowning. “You don’t have to be, I’m not interested in hurtin’ you. Peace treaty and all.” She shrugged. “You plannin’ on getting up?”

The peace treaty hardly mattered in Callum’s situation, and he was painfully aware of it. A slave wasn’t viewed as human, after all. According to human laws, her whipping his back raw or cutting his arms off would be considered perfectly legal, save for the fact that he didn’t quite belong to her; she’d technically just _stolen_ him from that man. Or maybe unrightfully confiscated?

So if she were to hurt him on human territory, she could get in trouble for ‘damaging another person’s property’. But they weren’t. They were on elf territory, and with the way things were between humans and elves at the time, nobody would willingly start a commotion over a mere slave like Callum, who wasn’t even worth that much.

Callum wondered if the elf knew that.

He eyed the elf’s still hand warily, but as he didn’t want to try her patience, he eventually took it and allowed her to pull him back on his feet. He kept his eyes directed downwards, hoping that the proper slave etiquette for elves wouldn’t turn out to be much different from humans’. It was all he knew, all he had to protect himself. And even that was up to a certain extent; after all, a slave could only do so much to protect themselves.

But being perfect was the only way to avoid getting _badly_ hurt, he’d been taught that for years, so if he couldn’t be that, he at least wanted to be as good as possible.

Careful, obedient. It wasn’t always easy for his clumsy self, though.

In fact, it was never easy. Callum had always been too… _hopeful_ , for a slave. And he was aware that he only made things harder for himself, but he couldn’t really help it, could he?

“Can you walk?” the elf asked, and Callum instinctively straightened up. “Earlier, it looked like that guy hit you pretty hard… I’d gone out to get some berries and saw you guys from a distance, then I joined when things got bad,” she explained.

Callum found he couldn’t read her expression at all.

_Ah! Eyes back to the ground!_

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” the elf said in a neutral tone, crossing her arms. “Look at me. I’m not gonna bite ya.”

Callum did, knowing full well that he probably shouldn’t.

But even when he met eyes with his new mistress, nothing happened; she simply stared blankly back at him. Her face looked pretty normal, too.

“Since you were a slave,” ( _“were”?_ ), “I don’t suppose you have anywhere to stay?” she asked.

Callum shook his head, hoping that the answer to her slightly odd question wouldn’t anger her. She didn’t show any signs of being upset, at least not because of something he did.

“Runaan will kill me if I bring a human back,” she muttered, mostly to herself, “but if you have nowhere to go, I can’t leave you alone in the middle of nowhere…”

Callum stared at the elf expectantly, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Finally, she sighed and pulled her hood back on with one swift motion. “Okay, fine. Let us go back.”

The boy hesitated. “If I may ask,” he started quietly, “where are we going?”

“My home,” she replied. “Not to worry; you’ll be properly taken care of.”

The words sounded kind of threatening, at least to Callum, but there was something about the elf’s gentle tone that made him unable to worry about it too much. He took a deep, inaudible breath, and spoke:

“Yes, Mistress.”

“It’s Rayla,” the elf said, failing to hide her surprise.

“Yes, Mistress _Rayla_ ,” Callum corrected, and the elf –Rayla- could only stare in bemusement.

Eventually, she mumbled something about _humans, those weirdos_ to herself and began walking, expecting Callum to follow her – which he did, without delay.

At some point, she turned back to make sure that he was able to keep up. He’d just been beaten, after all, it was only normal that he wasn’t in perfect shape.

“You okay?” Rayla asked, and there was nothing threatening about her tone.

Despite that, when the boy looked up, his eyes were panicked.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” he apologized in a low voice. “I’ll walk faster…”

Rayla sighed deeply, then turned back and approached the limping boy with five wide steps.

He flinched violently and then froze in his tracks, expecting a blow or some sort of threat; at the very least, a scolding.

But instead of taking her pick from these options, Rayla instead chose to place an arm under his shoulder and help support his weight.

Callum trembled, until he finally realized what was going on. His body relaxed, somewhat, although his thoughts were still loud and panicked.

Why would an elf do something so nice? He _had to_ have gotten it wrong. Perhaps she was about to flip him over and throw him against the ground, then proceed to kick him until he spat blood.

She didn’t. They resumed walking, and she didn’t let go of him, not for one second.

In about half an hour or so, she stopped, and Callum instinctively looked up to see a house. It was fairly small, but it looked warm and welcoming.

“We’re here,” Rayla announced. “This is my house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you have time, please do let me know your thoughts! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rayla takes a look at Callum's wounds, and Callum has a hard time keeping up with Rayla's unusual instructions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thank you for sticking with me! :D Here goes another chapter~

Callum scanned the room nervously.

Not having been invited to sit down, or specifically instructed to stand, he was kneeling on his new mistress’ floor, while she was in the other room with somebody he thought was a… superior of hers?

He had looked like one, and she had talked to him like he was one, although she’d called him by his first name, without any honorifics.

 _Runaan_ , Callum remembered. An unfamiliar name, with a hint of something ‘ _elven_ ‘ in it. He had never gotten to learn many elf names, but those he’d heard, they all had that certain something to them that humans’ didn’t. He couldn’t quite place it, but he kind of liked it.

If only elves weren’t cold-blooded killers, cruel and sadistic creatures by nature, Callum might have even found them and their culture fascinating.

But at that moment, he was just scared. He could hear faint voices from the other room, which thankfully didn’t sound anything like arguing –he didn’t think he would’ve managed to stay so calm and collected where he knelt if his mistress and the adult elf had been screaming at each other on the other side of the wooden walls- but they were also hushed.

Callum could tell. They were discussing something he wasn’t supposed to hear, wasn’t supposed to know.

He remembered then, the elf’s words: _“Runaan will kill me if I bring a human back.”_

So that man did not like humans. Callum knew he shouldn’t be surprised, and he wasn’t, not really. He was just… disappointed.

Disappointed that even if he’d been brought against his will, he was nowhere near welcome here; not even as a lowly slave, as property. The younger elf appeared to want to keep him around, but there was no telling what the adult elf, Runaan, would do to him when he got the chance.

Oh, he was scared.

Eventually, the voices stopped, and a few seconds later the door opened and Runaan walked out of the room with heavy steps.

He only gave Callum a quick, rather pointed glance, before he headed straight to the front door of the small house. And then he was gone.

Rayla came out of the same room shortly after. She stared at the boy awkwardly for several moments, with a lost expression that didn’t remind him of the elf he had seen back at the desert at all. It was like she was a different person entirely.

Had she been faking? Or was she faking right now?

Rayla opened her mouth to speak, slowly, but she seemed to think better of it. She stayed silent for a few moments longer, then apparently decided to give it another shot.

“So. I’d like to take a look at those wounds of yours. The older ones, too,” she began, skipping what had just happened entirely.

Well, it’s not like how his mistress interacted with the other elves was any of Callum’s business. She didn’t have to explain herself to him in any way.

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” Rayla asked softly, and Callum looked down at the rags he called clothes, the elf’s words finally sinking in.

Those dirty rags were terrible, that was true, but most of the time they served as some sort of shield. He didn’t like taking them off for anybody.

His masters hurt him, meanwhile Ezran stared at his injuries with those big, sad eyes of his that made Callum’s heart ache. He still hadn’t decided which one he hated more.

However, this was an order –a rather strangely phrased one, yes, but still an order- and Callum couldn’t refuse. So he took his shirt off as instructed, all but sulkily.

He hated having to do this. He resented having to do this. Who knows what the elf wanted with him in the first place. Why couldn’t he just keep his clothes on, why couldn’t he be allowed to keep on pretending that he was safe under that thin, torn and dirty piece of cloth?

Rayla’s stare felt burning hot as it travelled from Callum’s exposed back to his shoulders to his chest to his stomach. His ugly scars were mirrored on her violet eyes, wide and sad and so much like Ezran’s.

And suddenly, Callum felt a terrifying urge to grab his shirt and put it back on. He didn’t, because he was afraid of punishment.

“These are… a lot,” Rayla commented. Callum failed to read her expression, so he dismissed it as the typical disgust he was used to. “Wait here, I’ll bring somethin’ to treat them.”

Callum nodded slightly, but otherwise did not react.

He felt jumpy. That was never a good thing. He always messed up when he was nervous, and there was one thing that always followed.

Let’s just say he wasn’t very eager to get acquainted with elves’ methods of punishment so soon.

The boy watched the elf as she hurried to the room in which her conversation with Runaan had taken place earlier, and after a couple minutes returned with her hands full.

She was holding bandages, as well as a few small transparent jars, the contents of which Callum could not identify. And she also held a pitcher with what looked like plain water, but one could never be sure; elves were dangerous and unpredictable.

She carefully put everything down on a table, then approached the human and offered him her hand. Just like last time, all Callum did was eye it warily, while avoiding eye contact with the elf.

“Come on,” Rayla said impatiently, and Callum inhaled shakily as he hesitantly placed his hand on hers.

And just like the previous time, Rayla pulled him to his feet, and that was all.

“Take a seat,” she said dismissively, grabbing one of the chairs and dragging it away from the table, then turned around to busy herself with the mysterious jars.

Callum breathed heavily, but didn’t move.

“What’s wrong?” the elf asked as soon as she noticed, and she didn’t sound mad. Or upset.

Callum was being unusually slow today, and it made him feel useless and stupid, but he was thankful that his mistress was being patient, at least. He knew that she didn’t have to.

He had no hopes of her keeping it up forever, of course, but if only she gave him a bit of time, he was confident he would be able to adjust to the life of an elf’s slave fairly quickly. Probably. Hopefully.

Although it was still a little hard to say; he didn’t even know what was expected of him yet, after all.

“I…“ His voice was too quiet and he paused, struggling to speak louder despite the fear that felt like it was chocking him. “I am to sit on the chair?” he asked.

He wasn’t terribly proud to have to question the very simple order of ‘take a seat’, but he didn’t want to risk it. Back at the human kingdom he had rarely ever been allowed to sit on furniture.

In fact, the only times he could recall using a chair or bed, were the times he had been punished too severely and had to be nursed.

Rayla raised an eyebrow. “Uh… yeah? Can you do it?”

That question alarmed him, and Callum dashed to the chair and sat down so fast that he almost fell down along with it. Rayla was standing behind him at the time, and he wasn’t sure whether the chair had balanced on its own, or if she had caught and steadied him.

Callum realized what a strange thought that had been, and he felt a little ashamed. He kept having ridiculous thoughts and _he had to focus_.

“Ah, found it,” Rayla muttered to herself, holding up one of the jars.

It was medium-sized compared to the others, the glass a little cracked around the top, and it contained something that looked a lot like honey, but lighter and more transparent.

“It’s a healin’ ointment,” she explained. “It’ll help with the scarrin’. Some of it. But it’ll sting.”

Callum didn’t feel like he had to comment on that, although judging by the pause and her expression, Rayla had probably expected him to. When he didn’t say anything, she moved closer and leaned over him. Callum shrunk.

“Turn around for me,” she said, gesturing with her finger. Callum stiffened, but did as she said. “Okay, good. I’ll clean the wounds before applyin’ this,” she explained, putting the jar down and grabbing the pitcher instead. “Ready?” She paused. “Here goes.”

Callum tensed when the water met his back, but it was lukewarm and the pain was fairly manageable, so he relaxed after a few seconds. Rayla poured the water on his back, letting it fall on a large pot she had previously placed on the floor. At the same time, she gently rubbed his back with a rag.

Once she was done with the wounds on his back, and after pausing to ask Callum if he was alright, she also cleaned the rest of his upper body, always careful not to cause him any unnecessary pain. Callum was grateful. And a little suspicious.

Then, just as she had said she would do, she applied the ointment. It wasn’t cold, but Rayla’s hands were. Callum focused on the relief that came with that sensation, instead of the pain of salve entering open wounds. He pictured the skin of his back, raw and red, and wondered how come his mistress was okay with doing such a thing.

Why was she applying healing ointment in the first place? The only times when Callum had been given such treatment was when he was too injured to stand, and therefore work. But right now, he was fine; his body hurt, but he could walk. And even if he couldn’t, what did scarring and _non-immobilizing_ pain have to do with it?

Instead of treating only what was necessary for him to _do well_ , Rayla went out of her way to treat the untreatable, and no matter how hard he thought, Callum just couldn’t understand that.

Rayla’s hands moved from his back to his shoulders, and soon to his torso, and Callum was getting the feeling she did that often. Treat wounds, that is. Her hands were like those of a professional, practiced and certain on their every move.

“Okay, that’s done,” Rayla said to herself, and then Callum noticed that she was only now taking the cap of the jar with the healing ointment off. Apparently noticing his surprise, she explained: “The first was to make sure that any open wounds wouldn’t get infected.”

Callum stared. He had never thought of that before. Why would she even waste her disinfectant on him in the first place?

Once Rayla was done applying both ointments on every spot on Callum’s upper body that could possibly need it, she carefully wrapped the wounds in bandages, and Callum was convinced by now that she knew what she was doing.

She asked permission to fold his pants to his thighs, then did the same with his legs – but only after properly cleaning them, too. Callum could barely hold still as he watched his _mistress_ wash _his_ legs, an unfamiliar feeling of wrongness making his skin crawl under her gentle touch.

Rayla was finally done after what had felt like many hours, although Callum knew it couldn’t have been longer than an hour.

The clean bandages felt strangely comfortable on Callum’s battered skin, and he thought this must have been the best he had felt for years.

He was so grateful. So very grateful for what this _elf_ had done for him.

Rayla moved away to put everything she had used back in place, and Callum silently got up from the chair and knelt on the floor. He suppressed a shudder when Rayla paused and turned to look at him in apparent confusion.

“I…” he began, quietly. “Thank you, Mistress Rayla, for your kindness. I am very grateful.”

Those words, too, weren’t his; they had been beaten into him, just like everything else. He’d learned to always show his gratitude, lest his owners decided he didn’t deserve what they had so kindly given him.

But at that moment, his mistress didn’t look pleased at all. In fact, as far as Callum could tell, she was frowning.

“Okay, I really have to ask,” she muttered awkwardly, scratching the nape of her neck. “Is that a human thing?” She pointed at him. “Are you… Do you _have_ to do that?”

Callum stilled. Was this some sort of test? Rayla’s tone didn’t give him the idea he was being interrogated, unlike the question itself, and that made it sound like a trap.

Remembering how different his mistress had acted back at the desert, how easily she could change her personality, and that he still didn’t know which Rayla was the real one, Callum decided not to risk it; he answered with what he had been taught, what he knew best.

“Yes, Mistress Rayla,” he said, making an awkward pause to think of how to phrase the rest of his answer. “As a slave, I am to kneel in the presence of my mistress or master, unless stated otherwise.”

Nothing he ever said sounded like him. He was sick of the words that came out of his own mouth, but it’s not like he could help it; he wasn’t allowed to say anything else, any words meant for _free_ people. Not in their presence, anyway, but here he was alone. Ezran wasn’t there, he had nobody to talk to.

He was scared.

Scared that this life would consume him eventually, and then he really wouldn’t be anything more than a slave. Scared that even that tiny bit of hope he clung to would disappear one day.

He knew it’d become easier if he just _let go_. But he really didn’t want to.

Rayla took another step towards him and knelt in front of him, and only then did Callum realize that he was barely holding back his tears.

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to remember such things, not at a time like this. Not in front of his mistress. Now he would get punished for crying, and knowing that he deserved it probably wouldn’t make it any easier; it never had in the past.

However, when Rayla spoke, her voice was unexpectedly soft.

“I’m not a big fan of this kind of thing,” she said. Her serious tone changed into something else when she continued, “I can already see the top of your head just fine when you’re standin’.”

That sounded a lot like teasing, the playful kind, and Callum couldn’t keep himself from glancing up.

Rayla was smiling brightly at him, as if she was encouraging him to do the same. She was a lot closer than he was used to, and for some strange reason, it didn’t make him nearly as nervous as it should have.

Once he had seen that expression on her, he couldn’t bring himself to lower his eyes again. This smile looked so kind, nothing like the sadistic grins that he was used to seeing on his previous owners’ faces. This one made him feel safe, and he didn’t want to look away.

He felt himself smile back shyly, hesitating a little. But Rayla’s expression still didn’t change, didn’t twist into something ugly, she didn’t get mad.

“Oh, one more thing,” Rayla said, and Callum’s smile faltered and disappeared. “It’s _Rayla_. Just Rayla. You don’t need to add honorifics.”

“What?” Callum blurted out before he could stop himself.

Rayla paused. “I don’t like it,” she said, finally. “Just Rayla. Okay?”

Callum opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He nodded instead, feeling lost and confused.

“Good. Thank you,” Rayla said with that same, sweet smile.

She stood slowly, helping Callum to his feet as soon as she was on her own. Callum accepted her help, this time managing not to flinch.

“You must be tired,” Rayla told him. Callum followed her gaze.

She was staring at the sky through an only half-covered window. Callum was a little surprised to find that it had already gotten dark.

Rayla’s eyes returned to him. “Let’s get some rest, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rayla visits an acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I hope you guys have been well! <3
> 
> So, this chapter is shorter than the previous ones, but! There's a new character! Can you guess who it is? Here's a hint: they have yet to appear in the main series. We don't even have their name yet, as far as I know, so I went ahead and chose one for them. :3
> 
> Please enjoy~

“Don’t put that back on.”

Callum froze at Rayla’s words. Only his fingers moved, trembling along with the thin fabric of the shirt in his hands.

“It’s torn and thin like a leaf. Hold up, let me get you one of mine.” Rayla turned around, but stopped in her tracks. “No, that won’t do – they wouldn’t fit you. I’ll just borrow something, then,” she decided. “Wait here, I’ll only be a minute.”

She headed for the door, but stopped when Callum spoke:

“You don’t have to, I…“ She looked at him and he hesitated. “This is fine. You don’t need to go through so much trouble for me…”

Rayla scoffed. “Ow, shut up,” she said playfully, emphasizing her words with a wave of her hand. “This ain’t trouble. Be right back!”

She was already halfway outside, but Callum still nodded obediently to her back.

 

* * *

 

Rayla walked through the familiarly lively village.

Despite the late hour, it was as crowded as ever. There were couples, groups of friends, children, scouts that kept watch near the border. Their casual chatter filled the place.

Elves didn’t sleep much; their nature was to always be alert, to watch and listen to their surroundings carefully, even while they slept. They didn’t need much sleep, because the majority of their energy and strength was restored through what they consumed.

Rayla’s way was illuminated by lanterns as she followed a familiar path to a familiar house. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves as she knocked on the wooden door.

“Tinn? It’s Rayla.”

The door opened slowly and an elf peeked from the opening. He grinned brightly as soon as he spotted her.

“Ray, sweetheart, where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in two days, how have you and your uncle b-“

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Rayla said quietly, cutting him off.

Tinn sighed. “I can’t lie to you, can I?” He lowered his head in resignation, though his smile remained. “You caught me. He’s hiding in my room.”

“When is he comin’ back home?”

“He’s got some… mixed feelings about that new guest of yours, I think,” Tinn told her, smiling sympathetically. “You know he’s not very good with humans… Give him some time to adjust to the idea of having the kid around, I’m sure he’ll come around eventually.”

“What did he say?” Rayla couldn’t help lowering her eyes as she said that. “Is… Is he mad?”

“Uhh…” Tinn narrowed his eyes and bit his lip. “A little? I mean, he _was_. He’s better now, he’s calmed down.”

Rayla groaned and covered her eyes with her arm. “I hope he comes home soon. It’d be better if he was around right now… He’s taught me how to treat wounds and all but I- I’m not… I don’t really know what to do.”

“Hang in there. I’ll go talk to him. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah, thanks…” Rayla’s voice was but a whisper. “I should get goin’ now.”

“Yep,” Tinn agreed. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Your uncle can be very stubborn at times, but you know he’s got a weakness!”

He paused and looked at Rayla like he was waiting for her to say something. She raised an eyebrow.

“That’s you,” she said, though it was more of a question.

“That’s me,” Tinn confirmed cheerfully. “I can’t say I don’t love having him around at my place, but I’ll make sure he goes home for my future niece-in-law’s sake.”

“Appreciated,” Rayla said and grinned.

Tinn waved goodbye and went to close the door, but Rayla stopped it with her foot. “Hold on, I almost forgot. Do you maybe have any spare clothes? Preferably from when you were young?”

Tinn laughed. “That’s harsh. I’m not that old, you know,” he said, pretending to be hurt. He smiled again, “I’ll see what I can find. But better not come in right now… Can you wait here?”

“Yup, no problem,” Rayla replied. “And thanks.”

“Sure thing, Ray.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take too long for Rayla to come back.

She entered the house wearing a dark expression. Callum shivered at the sight of it, now even more nervous than he already was.

“Mistress?” he said. “I- I’m sorry. _Rayla_ ,” he corrected, and she looked at him. “Is… Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” she said, lightening up instantly, although it seemed a bit forced. “Oh, and,” she held up the small pile in her hands, “I got you some proper clothes! I hope you don’t mind, they’re, uh…” She trailed off.

It took Callum a moment to realize what she was referring to.

“No, no, they’re fine, I don’t… I don’t mind,” he said awkwardly.

“Kinda elven, yeah…” Rayla continued. “I’m not tryin’ to… mock you or anything. It’s just all we have around here.”

“Yes, I know, that’s- It’s okay…” His whole body was stiff as he bowed deeply. “Thank you.”

He meant that. He understood why a human might consider it offensive to be given elven clothing, but it’s not like he’d had the chance to feel like a human in the first place. He barely viewed himself as one.

And yes, the idea of being dressed like an elf was a bit strange to him, or maybe more than just a bit. But at least he was being given clothes made for elves, not for slaves, and he was nothing but grateful for that.

It didn’t feel offensive. It felt like more than he deserved.

“Do you need help puttin’ them on?” Rayla asked, breaking the silence.

“N- No,” Callum hurried to reply, shivering at the thought of having Rayla so close again, “I’m fine, I can put them on.”

“Sure, alright. I’ll be in the other room.”

Callum nodded. Rayla nodded, too.

 

* * *

 

The clothes’ fabric felt soft and foreign against his skin. Callum was so used to rough, scratchy fabric, and without that feeling serving as a constant reminder of the clothing being there, he felt much lighter.

Perhaps he was just tired. It was late.

His mistress had mentioned getting some rest earlier, but she really didn’t look all that sleepy herself, so he supposed he might have to stay up for a few more hours before he was allowed to sleep. That was fine, he could handle that. In fact, he _hoped_ she would give him orders and something to do as soon as she returned from the other room, so that he would be able to show his gratitude for everything she had done for him during those few hours he had been in her possession – and even before that, when she spared him the worst of that beating.

Rayla had been so kind to him.

She had cleaned and dressed his wounds, going out of her way to apply salves just so that they would heal properly. She had brought new clothes for him, warmer and softer ones, because his were thin and damaged and dirty.

She’d even allowed him to call her by her first name. And when he did it felt so, so awfully wrong, but it also made him feel a little nice. A little important.

She was such a kind person, this elf that stole him from his previous owner. And Callum wanted to do well, he wanted to please her and be the perfect slave for her, so that she would keep him around.

He thought that if he stayed with her forever, away from all of the other humans, then maybe, just maybe, the rest of his days wouldn’t be too bad after all.

He really wanted to believe that. But there was that one thought that he knew would never go away, would never let him be at peace. And he didn’t want it to.

Unless he was with his brother, Callum could never be truly happy. Not at the human kingdom, and not here, either.

“You should get some rest,” Rayla told him as soon as she returned. “I’ve heard humans need at least eight hours of sleep to function properly. Is that true?”

Callum nodded slightly. “I think so.”

Not that he was ever allowed to sleep for that long. Not while he was healthy, anyway.

Rayla shrugged. “Feel free to sleep as long as you want. Your body needs it.”

Callum nodded again. “Thank you.”

“Here, I’ll show you your room. It’s actually my uncle’s but, well. He’s not here right now, so you can take the bed.”

_Is this really okay?_ “Thank you.”

Rayla smiled. “This way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments motivate me to keep writing! If you have a minute to spare, please do let me know your thoughts! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Callum thinks about the past, and Rayla discusses the boy's fate with Runaan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! ~  
> I'm sorry for the long wait, I've been away on holidays so I didn't get the chance to write much during this past month. I've already written over half of the next chapter, but I can feel a writer's block approaching, so it might take a while to finish it...  
> (Still, with the third season most likely coming out this month, I'm not too worried!)
> 
> So anyways~ Please enjoy! <3

_“Callum?”_

_“Ezran!”_

_“Hey, where are you taking him?! Callum!”_

_“Let me go!”_

_“No, don’t take him away! Please, he’s- he’s all I have!”_

_“Ez!”_

_“Stop it! Stop! Bring him back!”_

“Ezran!”

When Callum opened his eyes, for a few moments he didn’t know where he was. Then memories of the previous day returned, and he exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

He was pretty sure that he had called out to his brother in his sleep, because he could still feel his name in his throat, like a bird asking to be freed from its cage. He hadn’t said that name in days, which wasn’t that long, but… long enough for sure.

For a while Callum just lay there, thinking about his brother. Wondering where he was, whether he was okay. What he was doing right at that very moment.

It was late in the morning, so Ezran had to be already awake by now, Callum thought. That thought was followed by the realization that he had overslept. It hit him like a sack of rocks and he tensed, ready to jump out of the bed.

But then he remembered that last night Rayla had practically made him promise he would get a lot of rest, just before she left and closed the door behind her. Callum’s body relaxed as soon as the memory returned, but he still promised himself this wouldn’t happen again.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Callum sat up on the bed, extra careful when he moved to make sure that Rayla’s hard work to make his injuries better wouldn’t go to waste because of his clumsiness and carelessness.

He had never taken good care of his body before. It was a luxury he could not afford, as a slave. But now that Rayla had gotten out of her way to make his injuries heal, ruining his body would be ruining her property.

For a brief moment, Callum wondered how one punishes a slave for not taking care of themselves.

Callum found he liked the peace and quiet of Rayla’s house, and that it was just the two of them. He was used to sleeping with several other slaves pressed against him. He was used to the chatter and the noise, the sweat that he was pretty sure wasn’t his, the constant movement and the harshness of the ground or wood underneath his exhausted body. It had taken him years to manage to sleep properly under these circumstances, but he hadn’t minded it as much lately.

Still, compared to the slave quarters, this was heaven.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, it took a while for Callum to realize he wasn’t alone in the room. He was pretty sure he opened some wound in his haste to get up and kneel in front of the elf.

If it had been Rayla, he would have been calmer, more careful. But no, it just had to be Runaan…

The guilt Callum felt for having slept in the elf’s bed was overwhelming, especially since he had been _caught_ doing it. And even if it wasn’t his idea to begin with, he should’ve said something, should have insisted on sleeping elsewhere, even if that meant disrespecting his mistress. Rayla was kind, but who knows what Runaan was capable of. Callum was a slave and a human, he should’ve known better than to push his luck like this.

Having lowered himself on his knees, as it was proper, Callum began to apologize with his eyes fixed on the elf’s shoes.

“I- I’m sorry,” he started, his voice low and uneven.

Runaan probably wouldn’t want to hear that it was his niece who had given Callum the order. Masters never cared about who was responsible, since blaming slaves was always easier. Still, he didn’t know what else to say, so he tried to phrase it the best he could so it wouldn’t anger the elf.

“I was told that I could use your bed. I shouldn’t have done that. I- I’m sorry,” he said, trying to keep from faltering. He wasn’t doing a very good job.

Runaan didn’t say anything, just kept staring down at him. Callum had expected a scolding, a blow, or even a declaration of his punishment. Instead, he was met with silence.

When the boy dared to look up briefly, he found that the elf’s expression was blank, lacking emotion completely. Callum couldn’t read him and it scared him. He just hoped Runaan would speak soon, so that he wouldn’t have to.

Runaan didn’t speak. Callum swallowed hard.

“I- I will willingly accept any punishment you see fit for me,” he tried, hoping that would get a reaction. “Please…”

Runaan didn’t reply immediately, but when he did, he sounded rather uninterested.

“It is not that I don’t enjoy humoring humans, but I am afraid I don’t have time for this nonsense,” he said. “Where is Rayla?”

The boy looked up at him again. “She’s not here?”

Runaan raised an eyebrow. “No. You don’t know where she went?”

“She didn’t…” Callum trailed off. He was not saying what the elf wanted to hear, he knew that.

“She didn’t tell you,” Runaan muttered. He seemed to be getting frustrated now. His voice was louder when he next spoke, “If you have anything to do with this, boy, I–“

“I- I don’t, I swear!” Callum hurried to reply before Runaan could finish his sentence.

His mind screamed at him for interrupting the elf, but he really didn’t want to hear whatever threat had been about to come out of Runaan’s lips. He was already scared out of his mind as it was.

Runaan frowned at him and opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped when a voice came from behind him, “Runaan?”

He exhaled quietly in relief and turned around to face the younger elf.

“Rayla.”

Still on his knees, Callum leaned to the side to also look at her.

Rayla was holding a basket with three jars in it, each filled with berries of a different color; bright red, dark purple, or light blue.

Callum didn’t have any hopes of being allowed to eat them, but he failed to keep himself from thinking that they all looked _really_ good. They didn’t appear to be any different than the ones back at the human kingdom, which he also had never tried, but he had always thought they smelled –and probably tasted– like heaven.

Rayla slowly let the basket on the floor, before straightening up and offering Runaan a gentle smile. “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” he replied with a hint of resignation in his voice. Rayla was about to say something but he cut her off, “Don’t thank me. Tinn practically kicked me out this morning.”

Rayla giggled, and Callum was glad that they both appeared to be in good spirits now. If they had been angry or upset, that could only be bad for him.

Rayla’s eyes left Runaan’s face to land on Callum instead, as she finally noticed him on the floor.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, frowning. She approached Callum and knelt in front of him, offering him a hand. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, staring at her palm anxiously. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to speak, to explain why he was on the floor –he was kneeling, _obviously_ , and trying to be a good slave for once– so he remained silent, making sure to keep his eyes low.

“Take my hand,” Rayla ordered, and he did. She slowly got up, pulling him to his feet. “Did something happen?” she asked, but this time she was addressing Runaan.

The older elf looked at her indifferently, visibly uninterested in whatever was going on. Upon receiving no reply, Rayla looked at Callum again. She was still holding his hand with one of hers, her other hand on his elbow, as if worried he might fall if she let go.

Callum swallowed hard. “I- I slept… on Master Runaan’s bed..?”

It came out as a question, so quiet Callum was worried he’d have to repeat it.

“Oh.” Rayla stared at him like she didn’t get it at all. “But I told you to, didn’t I?”

Suddenly her expression changed, and she turned to Runaan again. “Did you say something to him?” she asked suspiciously.

“I didn’t say anything,” Runaan protested, raising his voice a little. “The human just–“

He paused. Rayla stared at him, waiting, still not letting go of Callum.

“I might have threatened him, when I came and didn’t find you…” Runaan confessed, and before Rayla could say anything, he continued, “But I never told him to get off my bed.”

Rayla made a sound between a sigh and a groan, her frown deepening.

“You could be kinder to him, you know?” she said. “He’s been through a lot.”

“So have we,” Runaan said sternly. “He’s a _human_ , Rayla. How do you forget your training so quickly around him?”

“He’s not gonna hurt me!” Rayla sounded offended.

“How do you know that?”

Callum didn’t know if it was because she didn’t have anything to say to that, or if she had simply run out of patience, but Rayla picked up her basket, turned around and left Runaan’s room without answering him. She took Callum with her, and he was grateful for that.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you okay?” Rayla asked. Callum nodded mutely, and her expression softened. “Sit down, I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Callum went to kneel on the floor by the table, but Rayla noticed and stopped him before he could do that. When he gave her a questioning look, she just gestured towards one of the chairs.

Callum looked at it uncertainly, then back at Rayla, who nodded. He sat on the chair.

“Do you eat berries?” Rayla asked as she busied herself with the basket.

Callum paused, unsure if she was asking him as a human, or as a slave. “I’ve never had any,” he said, deciding it was the safest answer.

It wasn’t a lie. Although he had, in fact, stolen quite a few a couple years ago.

It was the day Ezran had broken a plate and two glasses, and spilled wine all over a guest’s dress. The master had been interested in that woman, and when she got mad and left, he beat Ezran so hard he passed out.

If it had been him, Callum would have thought he deserved it for being useless. But Callum wasn’t the one who had taken the beating, it was his brother, and Callum found he was even _angry_ at their master. As if he had any right to be.

And yet he was – he was so, so angry and sad, that he sneaked into the garden once it got dark and stole as many berries as he could carry in his small hands. He brought them to Ezran, and his relief was indescribable when his little brother showed him that bright smile, even with the missing tooth.

Delicious things like fresh berries were not for slaves, and Callum wanted his brother to not feel like a slave, even if just for one night.

He hadn’t tried the berries, though. He only knew that they tasted good because Ezran had said so.

“Here,” Rayla said as she placed a bowl in front of him, pulling him out of the memory. “Try them, they’re really good.”

Callum watched her as she walked around the table and sat down across from him. She gave him a small smile and started eating from her own bowl.

Normally, Callum would’ve had to confirm one more time whether he was allowed to eat the berries – they were _berries_ , after all. But she had so clearly stated that he was to try them, and he didn’t want her to think that he was stupid.

Rayla had mixed all three kinds of berries in the bowl she had given him. He carefully picked up one of them; a bright red one. He brought it to his lips and looked up at Rayla, but she wasn’t looking at him. Hoping that he was doing the right thing, he placed the berry in his mouth, chewed carefully, and swallowed.

“Well?”

Callum flinched. “They’re good. Thank you,” he murmured.

That was, partly, a lie. They weren’t ‘good’. They were the best thing he had ever tasted in his short life. Which wasn’t all that surprising, considering he had always been fed tasteless gruel or leftovers in the past.

Still, every time he really wanted to eat something, he would tell himself that it probably didn’t taste half as good as it looked. It was a poor lie, but as long as there was no proof, he could keep lying to himself. It’s not like he would ever get to taste it, anyway...

But right at that very moment, he was glad that they tasted so good.

Although part of him just wished he could share them with the person who loved berries the most.

 

* * *

 

 

Once she finished eating, Rayla left the boy at the table and went to talk to Runaan.

The last thing she wanted was for him to be mad at her. Or to leave again. She had to fix this as quickly as possible, for the human’s sake.

Runaan hadn’t left his room. He was lying on his bed with his eyes closed, but Rayla could tell he wasn’t asleep. He was alert.

She closed the door behind her and leaned back on it, crossing her arms. “So what exactly happened while I was gone?” she asked.

Runaan opened his eyes and looked up at her. “He was talking in his sleep. Calling out to somebody,” he said in his usual quiet, calm tone.

“Callin’ out to somebody?” Rayla raised an eyebrow. “To whom?”

Runaan sat up on his bed. He didn’t answer immediately, either trying to remember, or considering whether he should tell her.

“’Ezran’,” he finally said. “He was calling out to somebody named ‘Ezran’.”

“Ezran? Who’s that?”

“Why don’t you ask him? He might tell you.”

There was a pause. “Do you really think he will?”

“Perhaps.”

Rayla thought about it for a few moments. She didn’t want to force the boy to tell her anything, but perhaps there were some things that she should’ve asked.

Like his name, or if he had a family... Maybe it would be better to start with simpler questions like these. And if this Ezran turned out to be a family member of his, she wouldn’t even have to mention things he said in his sleep.

This could work.

“I’ll ask him,” Rayla finally said. Her newfound confidence was short-lived, “…and then what?”

“If he has a family, you should send him back to them,” Runaan muttered.

“I know... but what if he doesn’t? I can’t send him back to the human kingdom, he’s property to them!”

“He was not your problem to begin with,” Runaan said. “You shouldn’t have killed his master.”

“Killed his— I didn’t kill him!” Rayla protested. “I only threatened him. I didn’t even touch him!”

“You didn’t?” Runaan suddenly looked more interested. “Then there’s a possibility we can return him.”

“No, there isn’t! Are you even listenin’?!”

“I didn’t think you would share my perspective,” Runaan murmured. “But Rayla, you need to understand how things work in the human kingdom. It was humans like him that made him a slave. He’s one of them, playing a part in their society.”

“But he didn’t ask for that role. And I think there are good and bad humans, just like there are elves,” Rayla said.

Runaan furrowed his brows. “Are you talking about _him_ again? I told you that he’s not one of us. He has proven himself unworthy of being called an elf, and for that he has been locked away in the mirror, where he belongs.”

“So we locked him away somewhere where we wouldn’t have to look at him? Because he made us look and feel bad?”

“Rayla, you’ve got this all wrong.”

Rayla crossed her arms. “I’m not the one who wants to let a child suffer.”

“You should let humans do their thing. It’s none of our business.”

“Well, it is now! Ignoring them is one thing, but now that he’s here, we can’t just send him back!”

Runaan sighed. “I know you will do the right thing.”

Rayla was silent for a few seconds, staring at him. Finally, she opened the door.

“I know that, too,” she said, and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :D  
> All comments are deeply appreciated, and also have a good chance of helping me write faster! So if you have time, please take a moment to let me know your thoughts! <3


End file.
